


Fallen Hero

by illune



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Clothed Sex, Gunplay, M/M, Self-cest, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9238841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illune/pseuds/illune
Summary: Soldier 76 thinks that a visit to the past is needed to set his mind at ease.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [as_of_no_worth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_of_no_worth/gifts).



> 1\. This was made as a Secret Santa gift, writing selfcest is definitely not my thing :v  
> 2\. This is being posted from a tablet, so the formatting will not be great v( '-')v

_Es mejor  
_ _no tener ya más memoria  
_ _para el tiempo pasado  
_ _las casas, las filigranas, los helechos  
_ _el borde, un tejido…_

_Es mejor  
_ _no tener un rostro  
_ _para siempre  
_ _que atormente e instigue_

_Es mejor  
_ _no escuchar ya una voz  
_ _ni oler perfumes ni cuerpos_

_Mejor este no saber._

| 

_It’s better  
_ _not having a memory anymore  
_ _for the times that have passed  
_ _the houses, the yarrows, the ferns  
_ _the border, a woven fabric..._  


_It’s better  
_ _not having a face  
_ _forever  
_ _that torments and incites_  


_It’s better  
_ _not listening to a voice anymore  
_ _nor smelling perfumes or bodies_

_It’s better not knowing._  
  
---|---  
  
_Memoria - Hanni Ossott_

According to Dante Alighieri's _Divine Comedy_ , there is a special place in hell for the wrathful. The dense waters of the Styx river bubble, foam and gurgle with the screams of those who lived and died for their rage. Thousands of souls drowning for the pain they inflicted on others, the violence that once fueled their beating hearts now serving as an anchor, slowly sinking them to unknown depths, desperately fighting to remain afloat. As the epitome of wrath, war is the main fuel for the river to prosper and increase. How many lives were lost to hate during those times? If _all is fair in love and war_ , then is there really an excuse to murder and satiate the need for blood? A morally correct person would deny it, common sense screams that taking a life is not the solution. But war changes the way life is meant to be lived, and some people aren’t cut for it.

Jack Morrison was, however, perfectly tailored for the task.

Probed, injected, weighted, tested. Jack was _made_ to be the perfect soldier, an unstoppable killing machine that brought victory in the battlefield. Murder was his whole reason to exist, battlefields were his true home. Just how many souls were drowning in the Styx because of him? Soldiers followed him to their demise, wrong decisions costed lives, being late meant thousands dead. Countless bodies paved Morrison’s road and his boots crunched with every step, ignoring that the tiles were made of flesh and bone. Jack was a king for genocide, intentional or not.

But with the war finished, where did he belong?

Buried deep, six feet under, with a coin in his mouth.

Yet he lived on, surviving an explosion and a building collapsing on him. He knew that he was supposed to die in that _accident_ , that he was no longer meant to inhabit a world without war, a world that didn’t need him. That’s why he had buried Jack Morrison and took upon a mask, another identity to match what had returned from the rubble. The beauty of it all, a man that still carried the mistakes of his former self, clinging to his mind like leeches. If Morrison had been motivated by his ideals of a better world, Soldier 76 was simply fueled by hate.

And that was exactly what had brought him there: anger.

Everything was exactly how he remembered. The coldness of Switzerland was only rivaled by its beauty and quiet. The Overwatch headquarters were a pillar of activity amongst a sleeping city. A peaceful beacon to remind the world about the struggles of war. Stars decorated both the sky and the buildings, flickering lights in the city that hinted at signs of life despite the time of night.

The room had been empty and dark when he arrived; the bed was perfectly made, big enough to occupy two people but awfully unused; the bathroom sink dripped water every eight seconds, a problem he fixed way too late. It even smelled just as he remembered: lavender, oak, smoke. Not completely like himself, not enough of his former occupant. It was dreadful to feel like a stranger inside his own room, but it was _fitting_. He wasn’t supposed to be there at all, there was no place for him inside that bedroom. Not anymore, at least.

76 tried to ignore how familiar his situation was: back at the top of the Swiss HQ thanks to the betrayal of a friend’s trust. Winston and Lena would _not_ be pleased when they found out what he had done. Stealing the organization’s secret devices for his own agenda was, undoubtedly, a bad decision. In the golden days of Overwatch, where the UN ruled with an iron fist, that action would easily cost him his life. Now, it would only mean the disappointment of his peers, another let down for the record.

The door slid open and from the dark hallway came the sound of heavy boots against tile. A part of 76 still hoped for Reyes to walk into the room, black beanie on hand and taking off the coat that was rightfully his. It was a childish thought, yet his mind couldn’t help but miss the man he once loved. The yellow strands of hair gave him away, the commander coat being tossed aside to the bed. He didn’t remember looking so out of shape, at least as much as a soldier still in service could be. 76 never thought he was particularly handsome, but others liked to remind him of his pretty face.

Morrison didn’t notice the glow of his visor or even his shadow casted on the floor.

Sloppy for him, understandable for the situation, unforgivable for a soldier.

“Rough day, _Commander_?”

76’s voice came out more hard than usual. It felt weird to talk to his younger self, to see him standing and being another person. A mirror that didn’t want to obey or reflect, a shadow that moved by its own accord. Soldier expected the sound of an alarm, but instead he got a flinch from Morrison followed by the hurried run towards his nightstand. A fruitless move. There was no gun in there anymore, 76 had taken measures. Old but not stupid. Their basic training stated that if they found themselves without a reliable firearm, the next course of action would be finding a sharp object to brandish as a weapon. The only really formidable thing that could fit the description was an empty picture frame.

The next step would be disarming your opponent with the new found weapon.

Picture frame against rifle, idiotic.

Soldier knew perfectly well that Jack was overconfident on his ability to overpower an _old man_. He was cocky, way overestimating his physical prowess. Whatever move he would try to pull was not going to work. Old but not weak. Jack squinted carefully, finally realizing there was a ranged weapon involved and seizing at the unknown assailant. When Morrison spoke, 76 knew his younger self was buying time.

“Identify yourself”

Imposing, trying to stay close to his Strike Commander role. Soldier stood up, not paying attention to how rushed his movements felt. He had been sitting in the same position for a while, the cold getting the best of his joints. The SEP worked miracles, but time was starting to wash those away.

“Come on Jack, the security system alerts when anyone but the Strike Commander enters the bedroom without authorization. Torbjörn and Angela explained it three times before you understood there’s DNA science behind it.”

The closer 76 got, the more his visor could pick up. Tired eyes that would lose their color and function. Hair that would fall. Face that would scar. Mostly, 76 saw hate. Jack was still defensive, his black undershirt stretching thanks to the tensed muscles underneath.

“Systems can be hacked and disabled.” Jack’s hand clung tightly, his voice an aggressive whisper “Enough ranting, _who are you?_ ”

76 was almost face to face with Morrison. There was nowhere for him to run, his back was almost touching the wall and both of his flanks were obstructed yet perfectly open for a counter maneuver. Jack had picked the worst place in his room to get stuck in.

“Fine, if you can’t put two and two together then I’ll have to spell it out for you.” The mechanical hum of the visor slightly clouded 76’s voice “My name is Jack Morrison, believe it or not. Can you _at least_ guess from when?”

Jack’s face remained unfazed, seizing him for any form of weakness. It would’ve been too easy, to expect complete acceptance from his younger self. 76 was quick to forget that some customs from his farmland childhood remained deeply rooted at that point in time, and time travel was something out of a fiction novel rather than a matter of reality. Lena had shown that it was possible before, but Jack still had his reserves against it. In all fairness  76 really hadn’t cared for the complexity of time hopping up until that night, hours before making his mistake.

Still, there needed to be some sort of acknowledgment. Soldier was stranded in that moment of his life until the device, known to the scientists as the HG Machine, decided to work again and pulled him back into his proper place in the timeline. At least that’s what he had understood from the hour-long explanation Winston gave. Until that Pull happened, he needed to make peace with Jack, even if his original motives were less than peaceful.

“You and I are the same person.” Soldier continued. “This isn’t a matter of belief, but a fact. We always thought of this thing… How was it again? Born twice: first in Indiana--”

Then the break in Jack’s gaze, a small twitch in his brow.

“Second in the SEP” Quietly, without missing a beat, he finished 76’s phrase.

_And third after Switzerland._ A cursed future for Jack, an open wound for Soldier.

It was a very slight change, but Morrison’s shoulders had relaxed and his grip loosened. There, without much effort, was a proof of confusion. The second of weakness passed, however, and Jack was back to his defensive stance again. Still, the seed of doubt was planted and that was all 76 needed.

“You’re not me” Jack continued after the brief pause “and I’m not you”

Soldier laughed, the bitterness almost palpable. Morrison was right and it was impossible to deny it. Doing so would be one of the most hypocritical things that 76 could’ve done after crawling out of the rubble. Still, the chains of his past hung heavy and part of the facade still remained.

“Not yet,” Soldier’s smile could be heard, hiding behind the visor “I’ll give you that much”.

Once again Jack’s body relaxed, his hands lowering slightly, no longer covering his face. If 76 could be proud of or to take something good from the confrontation, it was how open his younger self seemed to be at such an absurd situation. It gave Soldier a small -and awfully late- reassurance to his troubled ego, since most people called him inflexible and conventional. Both terrible qualities for a leader. He wouldn’t know this as Jack, but years after Overwatch’s fall Soldier got a healthy laugh out of a book that explained color theory, and _blue_ had, among others, inflexibility as a quality. 76 was fine with it by that point, even accepting one of the many names he had had as Morrison, Black Jack Blues.

Now everything in his mind registered how prominent the color was in everything around the room. Soldier 76 wondered if the people who built the place had that in mind, to subconsciously make everything rigid and impossible to change. It was hard, not blaming others for the smallest details that might’ve made a big difference. It didn’t matter, all the rubble had been charred anyways. No signs of blue there.

Morrison stopped his train of thought, going into a defensive stance again.

“Are you with Talon then?” Jack questioned carefully “One of his new pet experiments?”

Somewhere down at the bottom floor, his pride had landed after jumping out of the window. It wasn’t unexpected to find more and more resistance, but the frustration was really starting to grind 76’s gears.

“Stop being so fucking dense Morrison.” Soldier snapped in response, getting a step closer “Someone like you should get the shit out of his ears and start listening for once. No wonder you were the second choice for that position.”

“You have no right to say shit like that,”Jack barked back, the picture frame shining hilariously in his hand “I _am_ the Strike Commander of Overwatch, like it or not.”

If inanimate objects could laugh, 76 would bet everything he owned that the Commander’s Coat would be heaving for breath.

“Ah Jack, come on” Soldier’s voice came out playful, teasing “We both know the blue belongs to someone else”

And once again, anger was plastered all over Jack’s face, burning in his eyes.

"Big deal,” Morrison spat “everyone wants Reyes in charge except for the Council, that’s no secret.”

“Who said anything about Gabriel? I remember that day perfectly clear” 76 spoke before Jack could continue, the younger one remaining with his mouth open “Every single one of those suits wanted Ana in charge.”

Jack stood frozen in place. 76 knew that he had finally gotten through him. Meetings between the Overwatch commander and the UN Council were extremely confidential and top secret. Nobody else had access to the conversations that happened in there, this much had been proven before thanks to Talon’s attacks on their communications network or the omnics attempts to hack anything related to the organization.

“ _You need someone whose complete attention is focused on Overwatch. Amari has already someone more important to her than this._ ” 76 continued, unrelenting “Don’t worry, she wouldn’t have taken the position. She didn’t want any more time away from Fareeha, at least we got that right. No matter what, we would have still been the second choice. The thing is that we betrayed our friend, we _used_ her child against her. That coat means _nothing_.”

The glimmering blue on the bed was an incredibly ironic piece of clothing. It was the color of trust, honesty, loyalty. All things that Jack had given up just for power.

“How could you know that? Ana’s dead, she never” Morrison interrupted himself with the stuttering, his posture completely inoffensive “I never told her, the council didn’t tell her.”

76 adjusted his posture too, not realizing he had been hunched over and putting too much effort into keeping his rifle ready to shoot.

“You’ll see.” Soldier said almost in a sigh “In due time, you won’t be able to run from your stupid mistakes anymore.”

Jack Morrison, ‘the man of shifting moods’, firmly pointed the frame towards 76’s throat.

“I _don’t_ make mistakes.”

76 didn’t know exactly what he laughed at, if the shameful threat or the fact that such a blatant lie had come out of Jack’s lips. If blue was truly the color of honesty, then Jack would need to replace his wardrobe with some yellow. At the very least, his hair matched his deceits.

“You do. And one day you’ll learn from them” Soldier said, slowly “One day, the pain will get to you.”

76’s voice grew more tired with each word, the weight of knowing starting to sink him. Everytime this happened, when a younger person was so stubborn that they wouldn’t listen to reason, Gabriel’s voice ran in his head with one of his odd sayings. “ _El diablo no es sabio por diablo sino por viejo_ ”. He had struggled to understand the meaning, but with time he got it: only through experience will you become wise. Still, it was difficult to remain wise when someone like Jack was seething with anger.

“I’m better than you. Than _this_.” The resentment in his voice was obvious, his eyes trailing 76 up and down. “I did what I needed to make things better. I stepped up when nobody else was willing. My methods could’ve been better, but the results are the same. You have no say in this, I know who I am, and I’m stronger than a vision of a possible future.”

The more Jack tried to excuse his actions, the more phrases 76 remembered from his indulgent reading. _The color blue marks the hate for confrontation yet states that things must be done their own way. It communicates the truth in a determined manner._ It was very hard for him not to mock him right away. It was not worth it, Jack was terribly oblivious.

“Except you’re not, _Jack_. Strong men don’t need to backstab others to get what they want”

76 saw the punch, or rather the attempt at a stab, coming from a mile away. Jack was exhausted and his movements were slow. It was just a matter of moving to one side and grabbing his wrist. They both knew that the pulse rifle was the secret to their strength, and 76 was the one holding it. It was there for a reason, of course. Soldier had brought it to rain hell, but he didn’t want to use force anymore.

Waiting in that room made him remember the days when he would arrive at his room frustrated, tired, angry. Too many hours spent standing still, being shouted at by the United Nation's Council, everything was a problem and nobody looked for solutions. Orders upon orders. Gabriel was no more, away with Blackwatch, finding love in another body. The remaining Overwatch agents lost familiarity towards him. It was only Jack and the blue coat. _The country boy that didn’t know strategy_ . _A pretty face for publicity_ . _The Second Option_.  

On those nights where 76 was shooting thugs, his mind just couldn’t help but wonder if the Council had everything planned from the beginning. If they had already seen the fall and just wanted a friendly face to appease the masses. Reyes was a man made for war, his sole presence was terrifying, but Jack’s was the stereotype of harmless. Sometimes it worked on his favor, when the enemy underestimated him. Maybe the UN had done the same and didn’t expect the organization to last as long as it did under Jack’s administration. Thoughts upon thoughts that amounted to nothing, just like his actions of that day.

Why spend his time trying to change the inevitable? Overwatch was doomed, no matter what anyone did, even Soldier:76. It was an empire that crumbled thanks to the division of its leaders. Ana was _dead_ , Gabriel shunned to the shadows, Jack shined with stolen light. Just fool's gold. The organization was already a corpse, its leader was barely a bandaid.

Thoughts upon thoughts that amounted to nothing, just like his actions of that day.

Killing Jack wouldn’t make a difference. This whole situation had been a tantrum, a pathetic fit of space-time proportions. 76 was prepared for the question that was coming, but his answer was all but genuine.

“ _Why_ are you here.”

And that was the main problem, wasn’t it? Getting there was remarkably easy. Steal a strange device that the scientists at Gibraltar concocted, Lena and Winston amazed at the abilities of the engineers behind the time traveling wonder. A prototype that would jank you out of the past when it felt like it, but a scientific marvel nonetheless.

His reasoning? Perhaps a rash decision to kill his past self, erasing 76 with it. Soldier thought it was a pretty straight forward solution, his dealing with time travel being limited to stray conversations with Lena. Still, how do you tell your past self that you wanted to unload a whole rifle clip into his head? The only redeeming thing was that he didn't want to anymore, any trace of his anger drowned away with the silence of the room and the forced familiarity of the base.

In truth, Soldier 76 didn’t know why he was there, not anymore.

“To talk, maybe”

Jack scoffed, cautiously trying to break free from 76’s hold.

“And do you always bring a rifle into conversations?”

The amusement in Jack’s voice caught him off guard, Soldier didn’t expect him to suddenly try to be comical or tease. And once again he was eager to believe that Morrison was a better man than what he really was. Taking advantage of the proximity, Jack tried to headbutt Soldier, only hitting the visor in the process. Seeing as how he only got progressively more violent, 76 didn’t have much of a choice but to pin him against the wall. It was an awkward position, to have Jack trapped by the neck with his arm while also holding Morrison’s wrist in his hand. Maybe it was the struggling, the body heat in the cold room, or simply the violence in their actions, but 76 felt Jack’s body respond to the contact in a way that he should’ve expected, but didn’t.

“Quite perky.”

He tried to tease Jack’s crotch with his knee, and as a reward 76 got three quick hits to the gut. He knew the hits were made to daze and incapacitate any normal opponent, yet the SEP worked its magic again. They did, however, manage to get Soldier far away enough for Jack to think he had won the trade. The cockiness in his face turned sour when the rifle collided against it, a simple swing of the right arm and he was on the floor next to the bed, clutching the sheets to stand up.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Jack, with a bloody grin, gave 76 a look that he knew too well. It was a practiced trick that he had learned from all the years with Reyes, a simple signal that they both gladly adopted when their heat was too much for words and needed to inform the other that, no matter if he wanted it or not, in the next second Jack was getting shoved into a room and his ability to walk would be hindered for the next six hours.

The visor didn’t reveal it, but Soldier smiled at the idea.

“I’m not Reyes, those taunts won’t work” 76 felt a chuckle rising “but nice try.”

Soldier unzipped his jacket and held the rifle with both hands, 76 pacing back and forth in front of Jack. It was neither an intimidation nor a flirt, Soldier just pondered if he was willing. Jack, however, grew restless at the show of power.

“You would’ve shot me already if you wanted to” Morrison’s voice was breathy “I don’t like teases.”

Another lie. Soldier was already at peace with the fact that Jack was never understanding the situation they were in, but the obvious lies were unacceptable. If the Commander wanted to get fucked so desperately that he was willing to do it with an intruder in his room, then 76 would be willing to provide. His boot on top of Jack’s erection was enough for Morrison to let out a gasp that turned into a shameless moan.

Almost pathetic.

“Really now?” Soldier’s voice was teasing, his boot pressing down harder. “This here says otherwise”.

76 liked the idea of being in power against his younger self. It was a really bizarre way of getting revenge on his past. Being needlessly rough had always been a plus to them both. Reyes was a witness to this. After enough moving around and twisting his leg, Jack was already red and a single drool line escaped from his mouth. With a single _up_ order, Morrison willingly sprawled himself on top of the bed, the commander coat underneath his body.

A reminder of what would happen. 76 knew where the rubble would settle, how that life wrapped in blue was everything but good. It was sad and disconcerting, how oblivious Jack was to the imminent death that was coming.

Soldier would’ve loved to be completely present when he took off Jack’s pants, ripping away the bland underwear covering his throbbing dick, but his mind was elsewhere completely. Jack spoke to him, gave him orders that didn’t matter. A single hit with the rifle was enough for him to shut up, but not before forcefully pushing the weapon against Morrison’s throat. The arousal in his moans got to 76, the whole ridiculousness of the situation completely drowned by them.

Soldier likes planning and preparing for most things in his life. The missions were flawlessly executed, briefings were pristine. This situation, and specially Jack, didn’t merit that process. His actions were overly simplistic: zip down, position correctly, thrust. 76 stood at the edge of the bed while Jack clutched the sheets with one hand and jerked off furiously with the other, his face twisted in pain and pleasure. 76 knew he liked the stings, he had been there before.

The visor came off shortly afterwards, the sharpness of the world disappearing into a blurry fog of colors. He could still barely make out Jack’s expressions and the movement of his mouth, but the details escaped him. 76 had never liked having sex with it on, it felt obnoxious and heavy. That, and Jack liked staring at the person fucking him, straight in the eyes. With only five minutes in, 76 felt Morrison tighten around him as his orgasm violently came, semen messing up the perfect black of his undershirt.

Soldier paused and stared, as much as he could, at the scene before talking.

“I’m not done.”

Jack didn’t have time to recover before he was turned around and placed on all fours. 76 held both ends of the rifle against Morrison’s neck, lifting his head upwards while gaining traction on his thrusts. Unrelenting, focused, trying his best to not pay attention to the questions that raised in his head. Was this how Reyes felt every time? Angry that such a powerful figure liked to be reduced to a deplorable state? Disgusted that he loved doing it?

When he felt himself close to finishing he lifted his right leg on top of the bed to completely bury himself inside of Jack. The commander was moaning and breathing heavily, hard and red once again, his whole body shivering with every stroke he gave to his over sensitive dick. 76 wanted to indulge Jack at least once, and he perfectly knew how. He pushed the rifle away from Jack’s neck, leaving it aside on the bed right next to him just in case Jack wanted to sneak around and grab it for himself. He got out of Jack, now kneeling on top of the bed. Soldier grabbed part of his hair, pulling and turning his towards him. A few hard strokes afterwards, Jack’s face was made a mess with 76’s semen. Instead of being grossed out, Jack immediately came once again, making a mess under him.

Silently, 76 got off the bed, wiped himself with a part of the bedsheets and straightened his clothes. But as everything in his life, this moment ended quickly. Another fugue memory for him. It hadn’t changed anything. All the feelings remained exactly the same as before he made the jump. Nothing was resolved. He felt the pull coming, and knew it couldn’t be helped. Jack laid on the bed bruised, exhausted and half naked. Morrison deserved it, they both did. The anger didn’t subside, the disappointment was still there.

76 expected this unresolved outcome, yet still made his choices.

When the room was left behind in white and blue streaks, 76 feeling himself being twisted around to the present, he couldn’t help but wonder what would become of that Jack. If this encounter had left him scared, if 76 had been kind or rough enough to get through him. If, by doing this, Jack had died again. If any of it mattered. After all, and Soldier 76 was well aware of this, Jack Morrison always knew better than anyone else. For good or bad, decisions had been made.

76 had tried to wipe the slate clean, change the past and his memories, but Gibraltar welcomed him once again with his heat. The afternoon was dying, the sun hiding behind the sea and tinting the sky orange with pink clouds. In the distance he saw Ana and McCree sitting on top of metal crates, talking over a cup of tea or coffee just as he had left them. Nothing had changed.


End file.
